This Wicked Waltz

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Ex Machina, Nov 29, 2014.

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  1. This Wicked Waltz

    in Collaboration with

    @Duchess of Adraelith

    Click image for character profiles.


    Part I
    Return to London

    The London Season begun with the customary return to Town at the end of the hunting season. Soon the lights on the windows of fashionable houses were lit, galas and dinner parties had been arranged, and invitations were sent, but whilst the ton expected one long party this Season, the effects of a distant volcano were about to make the summer of 1816: The Year Without A Summer --

    The rain had calmed down to a steady drizzle, but the damp London streets were a depressing site for the Dowager Dutchess of St. Albans -- Harrio’s cold blue eyes stared out the window of a four wheel Landau. It had been two years since she last visited London. After the death of her favorite son, Aurelius, an emptiness had settled in her heart, and it devoid her of any pleasure. She had abide an inactive social life, except for the occasional dinner guests in Bestwood, where she lived. It wasn’t until Jarvis, the estate manager, had informed his grace of Richard’s crippling gambling debts, that Harrio was forced to take it upon herself to put a stop to her other son’s recklessness.

    The luxurious carriage stopped once and turn left, steadily on Piccadilly toward St.James square. Two horses sufficed to pull the carriage, but for show additional front pair of high-stepping horses had been requested by the Dowager. Trafficking forward, the carriage finally stopped along St. James Square. The next turn was the grand manor of the Duke of St. Albans.

    The tall gilded gates were wide open as the Landau crossed the face of the impressive property. The large town house was built in typical Palladian fashion, displaying wealth and thus impressively opulent over the smaller houses in the area. It had been the summer home for the Dowager before it became the permanent residence of the Duke of St. Albans, and in her possession the house had come to a series of alterations through the years -- a new portico had been constructed, allowing formal entrance to the ground floor, an opulent entrance hall and grand crystal staircase with glass handrail convey guests directly to the noble floor, additionally, a vast heavily gilded ballroom had been added, causing the house to become even more of a place for display and entertaining rather than for living. And the sumptuous exteriors housed a large part of the St. Albans art collection, considered one of the finest in the kingdom, and a renowned library, housed in a room of 40ft long, which the Dowager now considered a lost treasure kept in the hands of her son.

    The entire house staff stood outside awaiting the Dowager’s arrival. She recognized some familiar faces, and she felt a great sense of pride for them that, even in poor weather they stood outside to pay respects. They held more honor and duty than her own son, whom she noticed was absent.

    Harrio stepped off the Landau, and under the cover of umbrellas was escorted inside the house. She was attended by O’Brien the butler; a tall man of strong chin and sturdy nose, and Mrs. Nugent the head housekeeper, a very stoic, ethical, and kind woman; both had been working at St. Albans’ manor since their teenage years. And Harrio held great admiration for the two older staff persons. Standing nearby was a petite figure, a young fresh face, dressed as a lady’s maid -- to whom Mrs. Nugent passed on the Dowager’s coat, hat and gloves. From where they stood, Harrio could hear manly voices, though the conversation was undistinguished the tone carried a tinge of anger in its volume.

    “Where is he?” asked Harrio, inquiring the whereabouts of her son, as she enter the drawing room. She was please to see most furnitures and familiar decor were as she had left them.

    “His grace is in…” begun to state, O’Brien.

    “Here, mother,” Richard said, loudly enough to quiet O’Brien. “Leave us.”

    “Shall I bring tea?” O’Brien asked.

    “That will be lovely. Thank you, O’Brien.” Harrio said.

    The Dowager sat on a single tall back chair - she was the very image of sophistication and opulence. The aspect of her face was softened with a friendly smile, but her eyes held to them a serious and intimidating posture, which was to a degree her grace’s unrelenting charm. Richard bow respectfully, but showed no inclination of affection toward his mother, in fact he resented his mother’s presence. Harrio noticed the cold reception and though she felt hurt by it she showed no emotion other than a smile. She was pleased to see her son, even if he was not happy to see her. She also noticed, Richard, was in a disagreeable mood.

    “Did you have a pleasant journey?” Richard asked, politely. He stood by the window, looking out at the gardens -- even in a sunless day the house gardens were an impressive delightful sight.

    “Dreadful. Nothing but rain and dampness.”

    “Yes, the weather has been disappointing as of late. You must be exhausted. I’ll inform Mrs. Nugent to prepare your room. I have some matters to attend to. I shall return in time for supper.” Richard bowed, to excuse himself, he couldn’t wait to leave the room.

    “Sit down, Richard.” Harrio demanded. Her tone rising from pleasant to deadly serious. She felt insulted by Richard’s lack of respect.

    Richard stopped short and lower his head in shame. He recognized he overstepped boundaries, and before taking seat he apologetically said, “My apologies.”

    “We both know the reasons I am here, Richard,” Harrio said. “I don’t pretend you think of me as a parental figure. Nevertheless, you have been a great disappointment to me. You came into life with the best advantages and prodigious opportunities. Which unlike your brother you have wantonly squandered.”

    “Oh, God. I’m fed up with this sanctimonious nonsense.” Richard stood up, his voice carried over. “I disappoint you, do I? Good. I am not my father. I’m not my brother, nor do I have any intention of being. So, as of today, I respectfully ask you give up trying.”

    “I will not stand by, while you fritter away your father’s fortune, and mud his legacy and name.” Harrio softened her tone, and tried to reason some sense of duty upon Richard. “Men get away with certain things in wartime, certain ways of living. But that’s come to an end now, Richard. You have to let go of all that. You have to consider your future, your good name. It’s time you stop running around with loose woman.”

    “Oh, please, not that again.” Richard walked to the minibar and pour himself a double shot of whiskey.

    “You must wed, Richard. Find a good woman of good stock, decent pedigree, of good form.” Harrio insisted.

    “I’ve already settled my affairs.” Richard downed the whiskey in one gulp. “I’m no longer in debt, and I’ve no desired to take on a wife.”

    “Desire?” Harrio let out a big chuckled. “You’ve exhausted that option, my dear boy. How long before you gamble what little you have? How long before you sell more land to pay your debts?”

    “Have your parties. Stay for as long as you want. But, do not expect anything more of me.” Richard bowed and stormed out of the room.

    Richard almost collided with O’Brien, who had been waiting outside the door with tray in hand. He didn’t want to interrupt the heated conversation between mother and son. Finally he stepped inside and placed the tray down. The Dowager looked at the butler, her face concealed any hint of distress.

    “O’Brien, you have impeccable timing.” Harrio said. She took the tea from O’Brien’s hand and pressed the warm cup to her lips.

    “Will there be anything else, your grace?”

    “Mmm, yes. Polish the silver and stemware, get out the good china, I am entertaining some friends.”
    #1 Ex Machina, Nov 29, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 5, 2014
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  2. Felicity Elenor Louis, Lady of France.

    Felicity stood in front of her father as he held her face in his large hands. "Now, You be good darling, stay safe and remember to write every week. I've arranged for you to stay with family friends of your mother." Felicity simple nodded and replied, "Yes father, of course." He leaned into place a kiss on her pale cheek and whispered. "And remember why you are there.." Felicity nodded again. "Yes father." Though every living cell in her body wanted to scream out "No! I refuse to go! OR get married!" But, that's not how life for a noble lady went. You played the part, bore the children hopefully males of course, and live in a beautiful manor and adoring your husband, even if he is a cheating bastard.

    The delicate horses snorted their annoyance as Felicity said goodbye to her brothers one by one. Each of them wishing her safe travels and a nice time in London. Though she could barely breath let alone speak she managed to squeak out a few words to her youngest brother. "You be a good boy now, mind your manners, eat your dinner, play nice with the other children, and leave that Belle girl alone" She said with a sharp look to the youngest who wore a sheepish grin as he hugged her farewell. "Yes Felicity.." He replied and managed to hold back his tears, as they were a sign of weakness. Which the Louis family didn't have. As she was helped into her carriage and waved a final good bye she yelled out of the window "Au Avoir! Tu vas me manquer!" She continued to watch, until her family was only a distant speck in the sunset as the black horses paraded away from her dear home, and her dear France.

    The bumpy journey to the port city of Calais which was a two day trip by her carriage. A journey which included very few rest stops and time to stretch her legs, which Felicity disliked to the greatest degree. Once in Calais she prepared herself for another journey, this time on a boat that rocked back and forth in time with the waves of the english channel. For the day long journey Felicity sat in her cabin with her eyes pinned shut as she repeated to herself. "Oh mon dieu.. Oh mon dieu" Felicity was more than relieved when the ship docked in a port city in England. She was one of the first ladies to be escorted off the rocking boat and her clumsy self almost tripped over her heels, catching herself at the last second. It was a delight to see that her host family had sent for her via a majestic carriage pulled by not only 2 but 4 black horses. Within an hour she was again stuffed into her carriage on on her way towards the great city of London.

    The weather here, Felicity observed, was quite dreadful to say the least. "Ce temps maussade.." She said to herself in a hushed tone. She heard the driver yelling to the horses as they clattered noisily though the watered downed city of London. Upon arrival towards the home of her mother's dear friends she saw before her eyes a lovely manor with a beautiful black metal gate surrounding it. As her door was opened she was helped out and only caught the faintest of glimpses of the cloudy dark sky before she was quickly shielded with an umbrella by a servant girl. "Oh, Merci" She said to her with a charming smile. The young girl, with a confused look, simply nodded as she followed Felicity up to the front door. "Oh, I meant thank you." Felicity corrected herself. 'I must remember to speak English..' Felicity thought to herself, mentally scolding herself. A lady must always be on point. Felcity extended her gloved hand out and knocked on the heavy wooden doors. An older gentleman opened it and asked her with a smile. "Ah Lady Felicity I presume?" Felicity smiled and nodded. "Oui," She bit her tongue before correcting herself. "I mean Yes, this is she." Her english rolled off her tongue with a thick french accent. "Please come in, Lady and Lord Bellemont have been expecting you!"

    With a delicate step into the grand foyer she took a look around, overwhelmed by the beauty before her eyes. As the servants paraded back and forth as they unloaded her things. "The weather here is quite dark, is it always like this?" Felicity asked the butler who was directing her things to an upper room. "Unfortunately Yes, m'lady. This is London after all" He replied with an apologizing smile to her, as if he could fix the weather. "Charmant.." She sighed under her breath, there goes her plans to explore the grounds. "Is that my dear Felicity I hear?" A high pitched voice rang out from around the corner. Appearing like a vision of beauty, the older lady of the house made her presence known. Her arms extended to welcome Felicity into her home. "Oh has it been so long? You've grown into such a wonderful young lady! Oh Harold! Felicity is here!" She yelled out, and as if by magic an older gentleman joined the two ladies in the foyer with a bright smile. "Ah Felicity, so glad you're here safe and sound, I do hope your travels were okay?" He asked and Felicity smiled charmingly. "Yes Yes of course! Thank you so much for sending that carriage for me." She said gratefully. "No problem at all my darling, now please won't you join us for dinner?" Lady Bellemont asked with a pleasant smile and Felicity took her hand and nodded. "Oui, Let's"

    At dinner a gorgeous steak served with garnish and a lovely table full of side dishes were served. Wine, perfectly done and poured was absolutely to die for. "So Felicity, your father tells us you're here in search of an eligible bachelor oui?" Lady Bellemont asked as she cut into her steak. "Oui, Pépe thinks it would be best for me to begin looking now why I'm young and my dowry is large." She said as she placed a piece of the perfectly cut meat in her mouth, chewing and loving the taste. "Ah, well I'll see to it that you're introduced to all the young eligible bachelors in London! I have many connections." Lady Bellemont said with a reassuring nod. "Why so sudden? You are rather young still" Harold asked Felicity. "Ah, Aldoph, my older brother, met his fiancé this summer. Her family sent her all the way from Scotland. It sparked the idea in my fathers head, so Je suis ici" She said with a bright smile. Lady Bellemont smiled to the young girl. "Well don't worry one bit my darling, I'll take care of it" She said as dinner rolled on. "Je espère bien.." She whispered under her breath. "We'll start at the ball of my dear friend The Duchess of St. Albans, I'm sure I can pull a few strings and have you come along. Do you dance dear?" Felicity nodded. "Oui," She added with a bright smile. "I could dance all night"
    #2 Adira, Dec 4, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 5, 2014
  3. “When will the rain stop.” Brenda muttered in annoyance. “There is nothing worse than a sunless summer.”

    The trip to London was more out of obligation than pleasure for Brenda. She stood by the windows in the family room, looking out upon the outer gardens. The grey sky overshadowed the scenery, the walks and groves of the garden were wet and deserted, carefully trimmed trees were lustless in the dampness, and the fountains nearby did not flung their slender sheen of silvery water nor did the distant fountains rippled steadily, for no one bothered to turn them on.

    “It will stop soon enough,” Edna replied, she was optimistic about the weather. She sat at the writing desk reviewing a pile of letters. “Oh! You’ve been invited to a dinner party by the Duchess of St. Albans. See, people expect you. You'll have a lively summer season, rain or shine dear.”

    Setting the invitation to the side, Edna looked at her granddaughter. She understood Brenda’s mood, it was the rain and being cooped up indoors that damped her spirit. Brenda gave a faint smile at her grandmother. She wanted to be back in the countryside, she missed riding her horse, and reading under the sun in the rapeseed flower fields.

    She moved toward the rosewood pedestal desk where Edna sat. The writing box was opened and inside, carelessly scattered, were papers and writing materials. She picked up one of the envelopes and read it, then another, and another - they were all addressed to her grandmother. Edna grabbed the invitation from Brenda’s hand.

    “Those are mine.” Edna said, and handed Brenda a sealed invitation from the Duchess of St. Albans. “This one is yours, and these are yours also” she pointed to a pile of invitations carefully stacked to the side.

    Brenda opened the invitation with the St. Albans seal and read it thoughtfully: Her Grace Duchess of St. Albans requests your presence at a grand ball…

    “I’ve already replied, of course.” Edna said, portraying a happy grin.

    “Of course.” Brenda said, smiling.

    “Your father will escort you. You will have a grand time.” Edna reassured.

    The thought of going to a ball with her father did not improve Brenda’s displeasure. She knew perfectly well that her father would take her, and that he will no doubt parade her like a trophy to be won by the most wealthiest contestants. It was a terrible game of duty and honor that her father forced upon her, a game she had no desired to play. But she dared not speak against her father’s wishes, his intentions were good however poorly executed. Yet an idea occured to her, 'Why can't her brother take her?'

    “Why can’t John take me instead of father? Brenda questioned.

    “Your brother will be attending, but he can’t be expected to take your father’s place.” Edna replied.

    “Why not? He is a barron and surely he can introduce me to his friends,” Brenda argued. “Father will only introduce me to old widowers and business acquaintances, and I’ll be forced to entertain them and have a miserable time doing so.”

    “Your brother has already committed to escorting Lady Ann Guildford.” Edna said.

    “Ann will be there?” Brenda was pleased to hear that her friend will be attending. “I didn’t know Ann was in London.”

    “My dear, everyone we know is in London.” Edna said. “Now, get your things. We are going to see Mrs. Goldpins, you’ll be needing a new gown for the ball.”
    #3 Ex Machina, Dec 5, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 14, 2014
  4. "Aunt Liz! Aunt Liz! Come quick!"

    Elizabeth turned to look at her niece and nephew, a slender eyebrow raised in question. What could the little devils have done this time? She stood, setting down the book she had been reading on the coffee table, before following them out of the library towards their father's room. Normally she would have been excited over their own excitement, but they had that evil glint in their eyes that told her they were up to no good. Which she figured their no good wasn't that bad, but they very well could have marred another priceless Leonardo da Vinci painting. Elizabeth had been back in England for less than a six months and she had already watched the little demons terrorize her uncle, the servants, the guests, the King of England, and the country as a whole. She had just been relieved that their king wasn't mad in the least, he had actually been amused.

    "Look at what we did to Daddy!" Audrey, who was barely nine years old, picked up the silver brush as she began brushing out the few loose strands of her father's hair. For once, Elizabeth felt genuinely sorry for her older brother. She brought her hand to her mouth, trying to cover her laughter, but she couldn't. She lost it. Somehow the two terrors had gotten a hold of some makeup and decided to give their poor, poor father a makeover. John's cheeks were a very bright pink, almost the shade of a tulip after a fresh rain, and his lips were a very bad shade of plum. Not to mention that the lipstick trailed down to his chin and hadn't stayed on his lips at all. His hair, well, no one could discuss his hair with a straight face.

    "If you mention this to anyone, Elizabeth, I will ship you on the next ship to Australia." John grumbled to his sister. He was embarrassed to say the least, but he also wanted to make his kids laugh. Little John was too young to know his mother, but he knew that Audrey remembered her and that it hurt her to know she was gone. So whenever the young father had a chance to make his kids happy, he took it. Picking little John up and setting him into his lap, John asked, "How are you today? I haven't seen you since breakfast." John winced as Audrey tugged on his hair too hard, but he did want to hear how his sister was doing. He knew the truth about what happened while she was in New Orleans, and couldn't even fathom the pain she was in. So everyday, he made the point to ask how Elizabeth was doing.

    Elizabeth's smile diminished as she sat on the edge of her brother's bed, shrugging, "As I always do. I just feel hollow. It's not easy, but the letters help. I know Charlie has been helping to teach little Bell to write."

    "I hope to meet your husband and my nephew one day, Elizabeth." John noticed the tight lipped smile his sister gave him, but he figured it was better than nothing. Normally she wouldn't even answer his question. As John went to add to his previous statement, he was cut off by Audrey, "Aunt Liz is married? And we didn't know?" The little blonde headed girl looked at her brother in their father's lap as if to ask for confirmation they hadn't been given the information. When her younger brother shook his head no, Audrey let out a huff, "We're never told anything."

    "Well it wasn't meant for your years, little one." John set his son on his two feet, asking Audrey, "Why don't you and John go find your uncle? Tell him I would like to speak with him later?"

    "Okay!" The two kids quickly dashed out of the room as they were sent on their mission. It was always exciting to have a new adventure to go on.

    "Where are those two headed so quickly?" Bellamy leaned against the doorway, a small envelope in his hand. Elizabeth wondered why her brother had never remarried. He was handsome, a good man, came from good money...She didn't see the problem. Perhaps he was crazy and she just never saw it. Elizabeth stood back up, walking over to her brother, plucking the envelope from his hand as she replied, "John sent them to go terrorize the country, again."

    Bellamy shook his head, "Have you not learned any better?" He let out a light chuckle as he added, "I think it's from some Duchess."

    "What is?" John stood up, in full makeup and all, quickly adding, "Shut it, Bellamy."

    Bellamy held up his hands, trying to contain his laughter, "I never said-"

    "It's from the Duchess of St. Albans. We are invited to a ball." Elizabeth wasn't in the mood for another ball. It was just an excuse for her uncle to introduce her to potential suitors, or as she called them, the-way-to-keep-her-from-her-son-and-husband. She handed the letter back to Bellamy, "Have fun."

    "No, we're all going. Remember? The three musketeers?" Bellamy nudged his sister's side, trying to brighten up her mood. He knew what she was going through and knew it hurt, but she could at least pretend, right? If anyone found out what had happened before her final trip across the Atlantic, then that could bring their families name to be worth nothing more than dirt. He knew this and he knew his sister knew this, but she still insisted on doing nothing.

    John raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest, "And what of Francis? You do remember our other brother, right?"

    "He's to be wed next month. As oldest, I'm allowed to kick him out of the Clayburn Musketeers." Bellamy's tone was matter of fact and his siblings couldn't help but to laugh. It had been so long since they had just laughed. With a final role of her eyes at Bellamy's antics, Elizabeth nodded, "Fine, I'll go."

    "Well I can't get out of it now." John smiled, imagining what the first ball of the season could hold.
  5. The soft pelting sounds of raindrops hitting the window. A soft crackling coming from the fireplace created a soothing atmosphere for Eleanor. The faint sound of swords play came from outside her window. Eleanor stood up from her comforting wooden chair and rested her book down a grand oak table. She walked towards her window. Despite the rain she saw her younger brother Peter go against a male-servant. The two were chuckling as the mud on the grounds stained their leather boots and the rain matting their hair. She chuckled softly at such a blissful sight. Her hand placed over the middle of her chest, right between her defined collarbones. She sighed solemnly. Being a woman, it felt like a burden. She wore invisible chain that kept her chained into the expectations of a woman. Eleanor wanted to destroy the chains and do something, make something, create something of her own and become successful. She glanced over at her book. Her footsteps were soft as she walked towards the book. The blue leather binding of the book allowed the tip of her fingers to glide so smoothly. She turned a page. It spoke about female equality. Eleanor was an aspiring feminist who was quite prideful of what she learns, and her intelligence only fuels the arrogance growing within her.

    The pitter-patters of rain hitting against her window seemed to lighten up as the sound of pelting rain became faint. She quickly closed the book, creating a loud sound that bounced off the walls of the study creating an unpleasant echo. She jumped a bit at the loud sound of the door slamming against the wall. A woman, whose beauty has aged as fine as old wine, she had long dark brown curls that was pulled back into a tight bun, her dress was a simple green dress with a corset in the middle. Her kind brown eyes looked at Eleanor's lovingly. She smiled at her mother's loud and brash entrance. She watched as her mother twirled around, she watched the tight bun slowly loosened allowing her brown curls to bounce beautifully. "Wonderful news my pet!" Her mother squealed in joy with her hands up. Eleanor rose her curious as to what she had to say. "I have been given the opportunity to have dinner with the Queen!" Her mother’s joyous news caused Eleanor to create a big smile. She clapped her hands together quickly. Her mother grabbed her hands and the two girls jumped around dancing. The study was filled with sweet laughter and giggling. The last four twirls caused the two girls to fall to the ground giggling. Eleanor watched the world spun around. She felt her head go through a rush that caused a slight headache. She ignored the light throbbing of her head.

    Her mother exhaled loudly grabbing Eleanor's attention. "How are your studies going lovely?" Her mother asked in a serious tone. Eleanor pursed her lips chewing on her lower lips thinking ways to answer her curious mother. After a few months all Eleanor has done was read, read, read, and read. Never once has she stepped foot outside to speak to a man about a business. Her impatient mother hummed softly waiting for an answer. Eleanor exhaled loudly. "Mother, father has given me a task that will take years." She complained. Her fist slammed against the ground. "Then years it will take." Her mother said in the end. Eleanor stood up annoyed and frustrated. Quickly she was to frustrate. She walked towards the books of how to's and books written by businessmen. It bothered how she was unable to figure things out, she could've given up, but that would force her to marry an obnoxious Lord or Sir -- both the same truly. Her hand picked up a book about business and showed her mother the obnoxious cover of the man's title he's given the book. She flipped open the book to a random page. A loud long grunt filled the study's silence. "Chapter three, sentence one, paragraph one. To create a successful business, you must first be a man, now being a man of power and riches means you're a complete arse..." She put a mocking face at the book. Her mother sighed softly.

    "Darling, you must understand there are limits of being a woman at this time of age." Her mother’s words were not the least bit comforting. Her words merely added more fuel to her ambitions. She threw the book down and crossed her arms over her stomach annoyed. The sound of the clashing of swords filled the silence between her and her mother.

    Eleanor adjusted her shoulders slightly. "Then I shall make a place for a woman." She said in the end. All she could see was her mother put on a worried expression on her face. The wrinkles on her face were tugged downward and the lines showed. She rubbed her arm uncomfortable seeing her mother look so disappointed. The discomfort made her turn away from her mother and proceeded to look out at the window. Sadly, her younger brother was no longer sparring with male-servant. Her fingertips pressed against the cold window. The heat from her fingers began to fade away. She stood nearby the window till she heard the faint footsteps slowly leaving. She glanced behind her to see her mother long gone from the study. She turned her body around leaning against the cold window feeling terrible. The guilt slowly caused her to feel ill. She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and tilted her head back till it hit the cold glass window. The soft sound of rain made it easier to close her eyes and slowly drift her thoughts away from her mother, her father, the deal, everything. It seemed all too much.

    Quickly as time passed she found herself on the ground, with an aching back. Pain from her back caused her to groan in pain. She slowly staggered her way -- stumbling -- quickly she got up. She placed her hands flat on her back pushing her back. The pleasant sound of cracking from her spine released the feeling of stiffness. Her mouth covered her loud yawn, as she did she felt her eyes watering slowly. Her hands balled into a fist as she wiped the tears away rubbing her eye. Once receiving complete focus and attention she sees her father sitting down in the study with her younger brother Peter, who was reading a book beside him. She shook her head lightly, her brown curls hitting her cheek. Her father was looking through the business books and books about feminism. Her brother was reading a book also, or appearing like he was. The sound of the book closing made her heart beat quicken and her body to jump a bit.

    "Duchess of St. Albans has sent us an invitation to a ball. Her son, Admiral, good man he is. Never spoken to the young lad but some naval officers spoke well about the man."

    Her brown eyes turned to her brother who barely spared a glance at his sister. She placed her hands on her hips glaring at the boy. The sound of finger snapping turned Eleanor's body to look back at her father. "Don't glare at your brother Eleanor. Dreadfully rude as a woman to do that." The word, woman, it was sued in such a disgraceful way; it bothered her ever so much. She placed her hands behind her back and stood up straight. In the presence of her Field Marshal father he looked for respect and plenty of it. A single improper body stance would cause her a long speech of being a woman and where her place was; thus causing her to rebel against him. Her father held onto a piece of paper.

    "Maybe you could charm a man with your obnoxious attitude and pretty smile." He said mockingly, denigrating his daughter. “Then again I've been told that girls from noble houses that act like a woman will show." He emphasized on the word, act. Eleanor rolled her eyes chewing on her cheek of annoyance. Many noblemen and women known her father, they praised him, some looked up to the great Field Marshal. With being looked up and praised they will end up quite curious about the Field Marshal's family. Everybody knew Eleanor through her father. They all react the same way, surprised. They have expected a voluptuous beauty that was able to speak about clothes and womanly things, no. Eleanor spoke about putting women in the same place men are, allow them to work, fend for themselves with a man by their side. Instead of agreeing with her they smile and ignore her. "You and I shall be going. Your mother and Peter will be staying behind." Her father said. She heard her father grumble as he struggled with getting up, the man was getting older and frail in a second.

    "Understood Eleanor?" His voice was stern and serious.

    "Yes, father, whatever you say."
  6. Lady Juliana Tindale

    Juliana sat in her room slumped over her writing desk. Well, it wasn't really a writing desk, as she didn't do much writing on it, save for the stories that she sometimes wrote. But those stories weren't 'appropriate' for a lady and 'too gruesome' to even bear one word, according to her mother. Other than writing down those little stories, Juliana used her desk as a headrest or a place to glower down at others from her window and watch her father and lovely little Morgan prance about like love struck hens. Sometimes she wished a fox would come and rip Morgan to shreds. But the likelihood of something coming and simply taking Morgan was quite impossible. Since her father was always around the heathen, if something were to happen they would be dragged down together.

    "Oh but you'd like that wouldn't you?" Juliana sneered as she watched her father clap a hand on Morgan's back and give him a hug. At the moment, Morgan and her father were readying the carriage for her and her adopted brother's trip to St. Alban's Manor, so he and Juliana could find a spouse. Juliana was not looking forward to the ride there, the festivities itself or the ride back. She didn't want a stuffy husband who would tell her what to do and expect her to bear children for him immediately, and she hated her brother and never wanted to be alone with him.

    "What would I like? And sit up, Juliana dear, or how else am I supposed to brush your hair?" Her mother complained from behind her. Juliana jumped, it was just so easy to forget that she wasn't alone when her hair was being tended to. The constant gentle strokes put her into a sleep like state and she always started to relax and forget herself and her surroundings.

    "Sorry." She mumbled, sat up ram rod straight and continued to the readying of her carriage.

    Lord Morgan Tindale

    "I'll be lending you our fastest horses...Oh and try to find a pretty woman, eh? If your first child's a girl, she'll have to have a pleasant appearance to keep her afloat...And..." Morgan was currently listening to his adoptive father excitedly ramble on about his trip to London. Well...His and his adoptive sister, Juliana. Honestly, Morgan wasn't looking forward to traveling with the little strumpet. She was nothing but a little idiot who always thought she knew better and more than others. She was always staring at him as if she were trying to figure him out, and Morgan hated her for it. If she were ever to ruin the good thing Morgan had with the Tindale's, he would accidentally misplace her on the trip to St. Alban's. It wouldn't be hard really, there were so many rat holes along the way where Morgan could be overpowered and forced to watch Juliana be snatched and dragged away from the safety of their carriage.

    If she kept to herself however, and minded her manners...Well Morgan would have to keep her safe, but oh what a chore. Hopefully a stern man with a firm and unyielding hand would catch her and Morgan wouldn't have to see the dolt ever again.
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